


Is That Okay?

by BirdAndTheCage



Series: Skeleton Shenanigans [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Friendship, Gen, Minor Original Character(s), Nonbinary Frisk, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Second Person, Rating May Change, Reader Is Not Frisk, Reader has female parts, Reader is AFAB - Freeform, Reader is Agender, Reader is Aromantic, Reader-Insert, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Texting, also it's been like a year since monsters came out of Ebot, at least for now, because of course, because reader is aro so of course, just a reference for the time frame, like a REALLY slow burn, low romo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-07-16 03:14:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7249780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BirdAndTheCage/pseuds/BirdAndTheCage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Sans, his brother, and his brother's friends barrelled into your life, everything changed. You're still not sure if the changes are for the better, but at least you can tentatively say that you have more than one friend. But the world is not so kind to your new friends, and you find yourself caught in the middle of society and your friends. What's a cashier to do?<br/>-----<br/>A direct sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/5966112/chapters/13711077">Five Times You Meet A Skeleton (and his friends) At Work, And The One Time You’re Off The Clock </a> You don't have to read Five Times to fully understand this fic, but events from that fic will be referred to in this one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Late-Night Conversation

**Author's Note:**

> Woo! Now that I've gotten comfortable in this little universe I've created for myself, I can't wait to sink my teeth in and explore some things! But, we're gonna start off kinda slow kiddos.  
> Special thanks to [Ryzi](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryzi/pseuds/Ryzi) for being my beta and encouraging me. I loooove you <3  
> Come visit me on my [tumblr](http://anything--but--average.tumblr.com) if you like! My askbox is always open and ready for questions!

You sigh as you stare at your ceiling. You tell yourself not to check the time, that will only result in throwing you deeper into sleep-deprived exasperation. You sigh again and roll onto your side and close your eyes. _Come on,_ you think, _just fall asleep brain._  

But, as always, your brain refuses.

You roll over on to your other side and grab your phone off of the pillow next to you. The notification light is blinking, so you unlock your phone. You squint at the bright light although you have the screen as dim as it would go.

**From Spooky Scary Skeleton:** hey you awake

Huh, that’s odd. Sans usually waits to text you in the morning, not wanting to interrupt your sleep. You hope that everything is alright. The text is only about a minute old ( _God, is it one in the morning already?_ ), so you decide to respond.

**To Spooky Scary Skeleton:** Sadly, yes. What’s up?

You cradle your phone in your hands as you wait for him to respond, hoping that everything’s alright on his end.

**From Spooky Scary Skeleton:** nothing much. cant sleep is all.

You scoff before tapping out your reply.

**To Spooky Scary Skeleton:** Yeah I know how that is… Stupid brains, am I right?

You sigh as you realize that your phone had come unplugged from its charger. You mumble a few swear words and you flail around trying to find the cord. You find it tucked under one of your pillows. Of course. You plug in your phone and open up Sans’ reply.

**From Spooky Scary Skeleton:** yeah. whats your work schedule like this week?

You groan, trying to remember your schedule. You write this shit down for a reason. You respond with the best guess you can make at one-something in the morning. You follow that text up with another.

**To Spooky Scary Skeleton:** Why’re you asking anyway?

Sans’ reply takes a couple minutes.

**From Spooky Scary Skeleton:** i was just wonderin if you wanted to hang out when youre off

You blink at your phone. You aren’t sure what you had expected, but an invitation to hang out wasn’t it. But, you realize after a second, it did make sense. You and Sans are friends. Friends hang out. They make plans, and they follow through with them. That’s a thing.

“God,” you mumble to yourself, “I forgot how having friends works. How pathetic.” You and Alex never have time to really hang out between your shifts and their shifts at a clothing store downtown. The two of you just settle for checking in on each other and binge-watching shows whenever it works out.

You allow yourself to wallow in self-pity for a few moments before replying.

**To Spooky Scary Skeleton:** That sounds cool! I’m good for Thursday if you are.

The response from Sans is almost immediate.

**From Spooky Scary Skeleton:** thrusdays good. you wanna come over for dinner again?

You grin as you type your reply

**To Spooky Scary Skeleton:** Totally! I’ll try not to have a panic attack this time :P

You snicker to yourself as you press send. Enough time has passed that you feel comfortable joking about that panic attack.

**From Spooky Scary Skeleton:** just be prepared for paps spaghetti again. its the only thing he makes the first few dozen times guests come over

**To Spooky Scary Skeleton:** I don’t mind that at all. Tbh it’s the best spaghetti I’ve ever had and i lowkey want some more leftovers. Alex hasn’t shut up about it either.

**From Spooky Scary Skeleton:** Alex?

You go to reply, but another message comes in.

**From Spooky Scary Skeleton:** you didnt mention that your roomie was a guy

Oh god, you giggle into your pillow. This is a common thing that you and Alex deal with; at least Sans didn’t jump to the conclusion that Alex was your boyfriend.

**To Spooky Scary Skeleton:** No, no, Alex is nonbinary. They’re chill and we’re not. Involved. At all. Past friendship of course.

“Not like I could be involved with someone past friendship anyway,” you mumble to yourself, feeling that negative part of your brain start to wiggle its way to the front of your exhausted mind. You don’t need a pity-party right now, but you’re too tired to really fight off the internalized hatred that you have against yourself for being aromantic. You’d gotten better over the years, but you still struggle with accepting yourself some days.

You look at the notification light blinking from Sans, wondering if you should even attempt to continue the conversation while you are in this negative of a headspace. You decide, fuck it, if he wants to be your friends he gets to deal with your negativity at one-thirty in the morning just like your other friends used to. Because that’s what you did for them, and that’s what they did for you until they decided to just fade out of your life.

**From Spooky Scary Skeleton:** gotcha. hardcore friendzone for the roomie

Your thumbs fly across the keyboard and hit send before you can register what you’re really typing.

**To Spooky Scary Skeleton:** Everyone gets the hardcore friendzone from me.

You read the message and decide to go with it. Sans accepted your gender without you having to say anything, even with the obvious difference between how you looked when you binded and when you didn’t. No weird looks, no questions, he just acted like you were the same person that he talked to at work. Hopefully your romantic orientation won’t be a big deal either.

**From Spooky Scary Skeleton:** what do ya mean?

Okay, well, you should have expected that. You sigh as you type out your response.

**To Spooky Scary Skeleton:** I’m aromantic. Meaning I don’t feel romantic attraction to anyone. I know it sounds dumb, but my brain just doesn’t comprehend romance. Sorry if this makes no sense.

You hit send before you can regret it and nearly throw your phone across the room. Why did you decide that this conversation would be a good idea now? Before your thoughts could spiral too much, you noticed the notification light blinking on your phone.

**From Spooky Scary Skeleton:** oh that makes sense. monsters have something like that but the word doesnt translate well into any language. its like what you described though.

**To Spooky Scary Skeleton:** So it’s no big deal…?

**From Spooky Scary Skeleton:** yeah, totally fine. humans arent accepting, i know, so i get your hesitation

**To  Spooky Scary Skeleton:** Jesus how are monsters so accepting??

You can’t help but send the message. You’re used to having to explain more, or at least deal with people telling you that you “just haven't found _the one_ yet” so this face-value acceptance of your words baffles you.

**From Spooky Scary Skeleton:** its actually complicated. ill explain over dinner?

**To Spooky Scary Skeleton:** Too early/late for you to explain?

You yawn as you send the message, sleep finally starting to weigh down your eyelids.

**From Spooky Scary Skeleton:** yeah. speakin of which you should sleep. you have work tomorrow morning, dontcha?

You yawn again and nuzzle your face into your pillow.

**To Spooky Scary Skeleton:** Yeah. I’m actually getting tired now, so I’m gonna try to sleep some.

**From Spooky Scary Skeleton:** same here. night kiddo

**To Spooky Scary Skeleton:** Night Sans.

You nestle your phone on the pillow next to you and curl back up on your side, back facing it. You forcibly drag yourself out of your still-lingering negative thoughts and pray for sleep to come quickly.

Sleep doesn’t come instantly, but eventually you do fall into a fitful sleep.


	2. Dinner (Part One: BRO DUDE BRO MAN)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there's a good day, lots of laughs, and cooking with Sans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've created a [tumblr](http://skeletonshenanigansseries.tumblr.com/) just for this series! Feel free to drop by and ask any questions you have there.   
> If you want you can also bug me on my [personal tumblr](http://anything--but--average.tumblr.com).   
> This chapter is unbeta'd, so make sure to tell me if you spot any mistakes!

Thursday rolls around slowly, but when it finally comes you couldn’t be happier. It’s been so long since you actually had plans to just hang out with someone who wasn’t Alex. You wake up an hour early, feeling more rested than you have in a few weeks, and nearly jump out of bed. You spend the day walking around the apartment with a giant smile on your face. You can’t remember the last time you were this excited to leave your apartment. 

Morning fades into afternoon and you decide to get ready to leave. You’re still smiling. You catch sight of yourself in the mirror and shoot some finger guns at yourself. “Today is a great day,” you sing to yourself as you search through your closet for something to wear. You don’t want to look as formal as you did last time, but you still want to look put-together. You decide on jeans, your binder (of course), and a black t-shirt that has dinosaurs overlaid on a galaxy background. There. Perfect. Also, you love your space dinosaur shirt and will find any excuse to wear it. You shrug on a black hoodie, thrilled that the colour of the fabric actually matches your shirt, grab your keys, and you’re good to go. 

**To Spooky Scary Skeleton:** Hey I’m about to head over. Just fyi.

Your phone vibrates almost immediately after you send the message to Sans. 

**From Spooky Scary Skeleton:** let me pick you up

You shrug, type out an “alrighty,” and send it off. 

A few minutes later, there’s a knock on your front door. You open it to Sans standing there in his hoodie and gym shorts that you’d come to associate with him. Good. You hadn't overdressed. 

“Let’s go!” you laugh as you slide past him to exit your apartment. You lock the door behind you and gesture for him to lead. 

“You’re in a good mood today,” Sans chuckles. 

“Well it’s not every day that I get to hand out with my bone-buddy,” you smile. God, your face hurts from all the smiling you were doing earlier but you don’t care. You’re just so damn happy. 

The two of you make light conversation as you walk to Sans’ house, catching up on whatever you didn’t tell each other over text the past few weeks. A breeze blows by you and you shiver. You notice that Sans doesn’t.

“Aren’t you cold in those shorts?” You ask. 

“Naw,” Sans drawls. “The cold goes right through me.” 

You try to suppress a giggle at the statement. You sort of succeed, but end up making a half-choked half-snorting noise. “That so,” you wheeze out, trying — and failing — not to laugh. You have no clue why the statement is making you laugh so much. You guess it’s just one of those days where everything and anything remotely funny makes you die of laughter. Oh well, you’d rather be in a good mood than a bad one today.

“Man, you’re in a really good mood today,” Sans laughs. Apparently your good mood is contagious. 

“Woke up on the right side of the bed, I guess,” you shrug, taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm yourself down. You notice then that you’ve arrived at Sans’ and Papyrus’ house. 

You follow Sans up the three stairs to his house. He unlocks the door and flips on a light. “Paps made plans with Undyne so it’s just us tonight. Sorry bout that, shoulda told you.” He rubs his hand on the back of his skull. 

“No it’s totally fine! I mean, oh noooo,” you fake-whine dramatically. “How will I live without spaghetti? I will surely perish!” 

Sans doesn’t dignify your antics with a response, he just holds a hand out for your hoodie. You shrug it off and he hangs it in the same closet as before. 

“You wanna help me make dinner?” 

“Sure!” you chirp and follow Sans into the kitchen. “What are we making?”

“Quiche,” Sans informs you as he opens the refrigerator. 

“Egg pie, you mean,” you snicker. 

“ _ Egg _ cellent pie,” Sans fires back, carrying the carton of eggs over to the counter. He goes back into the fridge to get more ingredients. 

“Oh you  _ crack _ me up,” you laugh. “Do you have a recipe anywhere?” 

“Nope, ‘s all up here,” Sans taps the top of  his skull with his free hand. The other is holding a bag of spinach, shredded cheese, and an onion. “Can ya get the glass pie dish outta the upper cabinet to your left?”

“Can do!” You open the cabinet to see various dishes stacked precariously on top of one another. The glass pie dish is all the way at the top, and there’s no way to reach it without either a step-stool or climbing on the counter. Shrugging, you heave yourself on the counter and bring yourself up to a kneel. Carefully, you grab the dish and set it down. You sit back down on the counter and turn to see Sans staring at you. 

“What? It was high,” you say, definitely not pouting. 

“You coulda asked for help you know,” Sans says, the small pinpricks that serve as pupils making a full circle. Did he just roll his eyes at you?

“Like you would’ve had an easier time,” you roll your eyes too. “You have, what, an inch on me?”

“ ‘S not my fault you’re short.”

“I’m not short. I’m an average height,” you cross your arms. 

“Average for a baby bones maybe,” Sans snickers. 

“Can we just go back to making the stupid pie?” You sigh, annoyed at the derailing of the activity you were doing. Or, rather, starting to do. 

Sans just shrugs and places the rest of the ingredients on the counter. “Cutting boards are underneath ya, we need a couple.” 

Not really wanting to stand up yet, you scooch to the side and open the drawer that had been directly below you. You grabbed the two small cutting boards out and placed them to the side before you shut the drawer. 

“Can ya wash the spinach while I get a pan and chop the onion?” Sans asks. He’s focused now, a relaxed smile on his face.

“Sure! Do you have a colander also placed in a high place?” you can’t help but tease him. 

“Nah. ‘S to the right of the sink. Lower cabinet.” You hop off of the counter before walking over to the sink. Sure enough, to the left is a cabinet. You open it to see that there is, in fact, a colander. Neat. You walk over and grab the bag of spinach from the counter and return to your station. 

“How much should I wash?”

“About half of it.” Sans calls over his shoulder as he preheats the oven and places a pan on the stove.

The rest of the cooking process goes in much the same way. Sans tells you to do something and you do it. You’re mostly on mixing duty, beating the eggs and then mixing in the cheese, browned onions and spinach. Sans dashes in salt and pepper and then he pours the mixture into the pie dish. He pops it into the oven and sets the timer. 

Like two cogs in a well-oiled machine, the two of you start gathering the small amount of dirty dishes. You wash and Sans dries and puts away. You’re done in minutes.

“So, we have about half an hour to kill,” you say, suddenly unsure. The rhythm that the two of you had fallen in while cooking seems to evaporate, leaving a dry awkwardness.

“TV?” asks Sans.

“TV,” you affirm. 

Sans grabs the remote off of the coffee table and the both of you settle down onto the lumpy, green couch with a cushion between the two of you. 

“Watcha wanna watch?” Sans asks as he turns on the TV. It’s on one of those ghost hunting shows. 

“Oh my god, this is totally fine if you don’t mind. This show is hilarious. It’s a couple guys reacting to  _ spooky happenings _ .” You wiggle your fingers with the last words to convey just how silly you found the show. Sure you believed in ghosts, but the reactions of the guys on this show were always so over-the-top — it never failed to make you laugh. 

Soon the both of you are doubled over in fits of laughter.

“Bro!” you wheeze out. “Bro, man, bro, dude!” 

“Dude, bro! Bro, man, dude!” Sans laughs out, also trying to catch his breath. “This show is ridiculous.”

“I know,” you giggle, wiping tears from your eyes. “Isn’t it the best?”

Another shout of “BRO!” from the television sends the two of you back into fits of giggles. You collapse sideways on the couch, the top of your head brushing Sans’ leg. 

“I can’t handle it,” you manage to say though the giggles. “Goodbye my friend. How I die.”

“What, you gonna become a ghost and haunt me?” Sans laughs.

“Only if you shout ‘bro’ every time I make noise,” you snort. 

The two of you nearly miss the oven timer beeping. 

“I’m gonna go take that out of the oven. It still needs to cool for about ten,” Sans says. He takes a deep breath to gather himself and walks into the kitchen. Luckily, it’s a commercial break so he isn’t missing out on anything but advertisements for other shows. You scooch so you’re fully sprawled out on the couch, head where Sans was just sitting. You notice that it’s warm. Weird. You didn’t think that Sans would have body heat, having no body and all. You shrug mentally and chalk it up to magic. At least, you hope is magic body heat and not magic farts or something. The thought sends you into another spiral of giggles. 

“Did I miss somethin?” Sans asks as he comes back into the room.

“Just my brain,” you say, recovered from your small giggle fit.

Sans’ pinpricks sweep over you, and you do your best to give him an innocent smile. He sighs and walks to the end of the couch where your feet are. He lifts them up, slips under, and sets your feet down on his lap. His legs aren’t as bony as you expect, and it’s a nice surprise. And, yep, he’s warm. Must be magic then.

“How long does the egg pie have to cool for?” You ask, shifting so you’re on your back instead of your side. 

“Ten minutes at least,” Sans says.

“Sweet. That gives us more than enough time to finish this episode. Bro.” You snicker again and Sans follows suit. 

The two of you lapse into a comfortable silence, broken by the occasional giggle, as you wait for the quiche to cool. You smile to yourself, stretching out your legs slightly. Sans, not looking away from the TV, lifts your legs and slips the pillow on his side under your legs. 

Yeah, you could live with having a friend like Sans in your life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry! I had to split this chapter in two because it was getting real long. I know what I want to happen next chapter, it's just a matter of having the time to get it down.   
> Thank you so much for reading. Any and all feedback is always loved and appreciated.


	3. Dinner (Part Two: Thermal Retentive Properties of Eggs and Cheese)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sans realizes some things, Paps has bad timing, and You learn a little more about yourself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Official Tumblr](http://skeletonshenanigansseries.tumblr.com/) \-- [Personal Tumblr](http://anything--but--average.tumblr.com/)  
>  This chapter isn't beta'd by anyone else, so let me know if you catch any mistakes!

The ghost hunting show is still on, but it’s changed to a different episode. 

Sans sees you stretch out of the corner of his eye and he pretends not to notice your shirt ride up just the slightest bit to expose a sliver of your stomach. He also pretends not to hear the satisfied groan you make. 

“I’ve actually always wanted to go there,” you say and gesture to the TV. The ghost-hunting bros are at some battlefield a couple states over. “I was huge into the Civil War when I was a kid.” 

“Civil War?” Sans asks.  

“Oh man, that’s right. You guys were…” you pause awkwardly, searching for words. Sans appreciates your attempt to be tactful. “Kinda not around… for  uh…. Most of written human history.” You nod decisively. “Yeah. That works.” 

Sans can’t help the laugh that escapes from him. “Yeah kiddo. That’s one way to put it.” 

You go on to explain the finer points of the Civil War to him, to the best of your abilities. He can tell that history isn’t your strong suit with how you stumble over your words and backtrack to explain something in more detail, but he still gets the point of the human Civil War. Humans fought over whether or not they could own other humans, along with other differences in economy between the North and the South. You go on to gloss over how there’s still oppression and inequality and finish up your history lesson with a shrug.

He can’t help but scoff. “No wonder so many humans have issues accepting monsters. They can’t even accept each other.”

“Yep,” you sigh, stretching again. “Humans suck.”

“Not you though.” The words leave Sans’ mouth before he can stop them. 

You pause, mid-stretch, and just stare at him.

He stares back.

And you look at him.

And he looks at you.

“Thanks?”

“Anytime.”

A slightly awkward silence fills the air between him and you.

It’s broken in two seconds flat when your stomach lets out a loud grumble.

“Let’s go eat. The quiche should be cool by now,” Sans says through spurts of laughter.

“Shut up,” you respond, valiantly trying to hold back laughter but failing miserably. You face is flushed a light pink, though from embarrassment or laughter Sans can’t tell. 

You roll off of the couch and land in a crouch. “Parkour!” You exclaim as you straighten up. 

“Parkour?” Sans asks.

“It’s a sport. Um…” You trail off, apparently unsure of how to explain. “Remind me to show you videos on YouTube after dinner.”

“Show me videos on YouTube after dinner,” Sans parrots with a shit-eating grin firmly in place.

“Oh, ha-ha,” you roll you eyes and make your way over to the table. Sans follows in your wake, snickering a little. 

Sans grabs two plates from the kitchen along with two forks and sets the table. He takes the quiche off the cooling rack and dishes out two slices and sits down. He doesn’t really feel up to eating solid food right now, but he knows it’ll weird you out if he watches you eat. So, he sighs internally and gears up to eat. He’s getting ready to take a bite when he hears your muffled swear.

“What’s up?” he asks, looking up from his plate. You’re in the process of chewing, holding a finger up as a sign to wait. 

“It’s still hot,” you gasp. “Like seriously, what are the thermal retentive properties of eggs and cheese? They’re ungodly. Someone qualified, do some science on this. I’d do it myself, but I’m  not qualified.” You huff angrily, pout, and go to take another bite, blowing on it to cool it before shoving it in your mouth angrily. 

Fuck. Sans looks at you and realizes some very important things. One: you’re a complete nerd. Two: hot food will not stop you from eating it. Three: he might have more-than-platonic feelings for you. Four: he did not want to fuck this friendship up with feelings that you wouldn’t return. 

“You gonna eat?”

Sans is startled out of his internal spiral of “ _fuck fuck fuck I think I have feelings for this person I’ve known for less than two months how the fuck why the fuck what the fuck fuuuck_ ” by your words. He’s saved from having to answer by his phone ringing. It’s a standard ringtone, but it’s set only for Papyrus. Immediately, Sans is filled with worry. Papyrus usually doesn’t call when he’s at Undyne’s. 

“Hey bro, everything okay?” he answers the phone.

“I AM FINE!” Papyrus replies, “HOW IS YOUR DATE GOING? I WANTED TO CALL TO CHECK UP ON YOU AND OUR FRIEND!”

Sans looks over to see your slightly confused face. Maaaaaaaybe you didn’t hear Papyrus. Maybe you’re just wondering why he’s calling too.  _ Yeah, like they didn’t hear Paps.  _ He thinks.

“Things are goin’ fine,” Sans replies slowly. He sees you mouth the word “date” and furrow your eyebrows further in confusion. “Look, you caught us in the middle of eating bro.”

“OH I AM SO SORRY! I DID NOT MEAN TO INTERRUPT! I WILL LET YOU GET BACK TO YOUR DATE!” 

“It’s not-” Papyrus hangs up. “- a date,” Sans sighs.  

“So Papyrus made plans with Undyne because he thought that this would be a date?” You ask as you go to take another bite of your quiche. He can tell that you’re trying to be calm about this whole situation. This he’s thankful for. “I mean,” you continue, “that’s sweet of him but we’re just friends. He knows that, right?”

Sans chuckles a little and toys with his fork. “Paps has some weird ideas of how dating works. He has a manual for it.”

“A manual?” 

“Yep.”

Another awkward silence ensues, and you take the opportunity to eat some more of your quiche. Sans sighs and begins picking at his, taking small bites.

“Well,” you speak up after a while, “did you want it to be a date?” 

Sans looks up to see that you’ve finished your slice of quiche and that you’re eyeing the pie dish, apparently unsure if you want seconds or not. Or, maybe you’re just avoiding eye contact.

He isn’t sure if he wants tonight to be a date. At the beginning of the night he hadn't even given it thought. But then he’d found out how easily the two of you worked together, like two cogs coming together to make a bigger and better machine. And this was without seeing your soul. Well, fully anyway. The thought tickled something in the back of his mind. A half-asleep promise to explain something over dinner.

“No,” Sans finally decides. He knows that he’s paused too long, but he can’t take it back now. “This, this right here is a friendly get-together. Besides, I know ya don’t so the dating thing, so I wouldn’t wanna make you uncomfortable like that.” 

You stare at him, brows furrowed in confusion and a frown on your face. The expression pulls at Sans’ soul and he resists the strong urge to try and see your soul to glean some sort of insight into your thought process. Sure, he’d stolen glimpses before, being rewarded with a flash of dark green each time, but that was just to make sure that you weren’t a total asshole before he introduced you to Papyrus or Frisk.

“You okay there, kiddo?” Sans asks, taking another small bite of quiche.

“Yeah. It’s just…” you trail off with a sigh. “I mean I’m more than okay. It’s just been a while since I’ve had an actual friend that wasn’t Alex. This is all just… kinda new to me still.” You laugh, but there’s no humor in it.

Sans knows that feeling all too well. Sure, he had Paps in the underground and he was even cordial with Alphys and Undyne, but he never really had  _ friends _ . Not until recently. Some days, he’s even unsure if they’re actually his friends, or if they just put up with him because he’s Papyrus’ brother. 

“It’s okay,” Sans says. “If we’re bein’ honest, this is still new for me too.” He shrugs and pretends that that sentence isn’t as sad as it is. 

You hum in thought before you respond to him. “Well, I’m sure we can figure out how the heck to friendship together. We’ve been doing a good job so far, yeah? Angsty late-night conversations, panic attacks, making fun of TV shows. That’s all friend stuff.” He watches as you shrug and finally take another slice of quiche, carefully transporting it from the dish to your plate via spatula. 

“That sounds like a good time,” Sans smiles. Then that half-forgotten niggling thought clicks. Angsty late-night conversations. He had wanted to explain how monsters understood each other and humans so easily. Souls. 

“Speakin’ of late-night conversations — if you’re okay with changing the topic?” Sans asks. You nod and give a thumbs-up, having just taken a bite of quiche. “I’m supposed to explain to ya why monsters are “so understanding” as you put it.” 

“Oh yeah, I forgot about that. Busy week and all,” you nod again.

Sans isn’t sure where exactly to begin. Does he want to ease you in or just lay it all out on the table? He takes a deep breath and folds his hands on the table. “So, every living being — human or monster — has this thing called a soul.”

You make a sound of understanding. “Yeah, humans have stuff about that. Although it’s never clear what “soul” really means. So, what does it mean to monsters?”

Sans shrugs “Well, it’s the culmination of your very being. Everything that makes you, you and me, me. All wrapped up in a little physical package.”

You hum in thought. “Most humans, when they talk about souls, mean it in a spiritual sense. But most religious groups talk about souls like that. But, we’re not talking religion, right?” Sans can hear the slight desperation in your tone that you try to hide. He makes a mental note that religion is a topic to be avoided with you.

“Nope, just facts of life.” Sans grins at you and watches as you laugh. He was being serious, but he’s glad that you’re back in a good mood. 

“So if souls are a physical thing, why can’t I see yours?” You squint, as if that will help you see inside of him. 

He can’t help but chuckle. “Naw, it’s… it’s like human anatomy. Like your heart. It’s a physical thing but you can’t see it.”

“You don’t know about the Civil War, but you know about human anatomy?” You ask. “Were you hoping to woo me with your knowledge of the human body?” you snicker. 

“Yes. That was the goal. Are you wooed?” 

“Totally. I’m overwhelmed with how wooed I am.” 

The two of you lapse into giggles. 

“Is there a way to see souls, then?” you ask after you’d calmed down. 

“There is, but it’s kind of a personal thing, souls.” Sans scratched the back of his skull. He’s not sure if he wants you to see his soul - it’s dull and chipped from the resets and the resulting negative feelings from them. Compared to the flashes he’s seen of your soul, he’s sure that his soul would pale in comparison to yours. 

“How personal? Like…” you pull a weird face where your nose scrunches up and your cheeks flush slightly. “Is it like sex?” You pause and Sans begins to speak, but he’s cut off by you. “Not that I’m repulsed by the idea of having sex with you. I mean I don’t particularly want to at this point in time but I don’t really know you too well and I’m gonna shut up now.”

Sans chuckles again at your flustered disposition. You raise a valid point though. “It’s showing someone yourself without walls. It’s everything that you are. So yeah, it’s pretty personal.” He decides to ignore the comments about sex, not wanting to go down that road. 

“Well, will you suddenly know everything about me?” you ask. 

Sans blinks. “Well, no. Not unless I actually touch your soul. Which I won’t do. That’s…. Uh… that’s real intimate.”

You face flushes again and Sans nods. 

“But I’ll be able to see my soul too, right?” you ask.

“Yes,” Sans answers.

“Okay. Let’s do it. I wanna see my soul.” You give a decisive nod and Sans can’t help but wonder where this sudden rush of determination came from.

“We should probably do this on the couch, ‘s more comfortable.” 

“Okay.” You nod.

Sans watches as you hurriedly finish your slice of quiche — he take a couple more tiny bites of his own slice — before you stand up. He follows suit and the two of you walk over to the couch. Sans figures that he can just do dishes later. Right now, he’s focused on showing you your soul. 

“So should I sit or lay?” You ask.

“Sitting’s fine,” Sans says. The two of you sit on the couch, facing each other. “Now, this’ll feel a little weird, but it’ll feel worse if ya try to resist. You have to trust me.” Sans explains.

“Okay,” you say as you take a deep breath. You stare down at the couch before switching your gaze to his face. Sans can see the determination in your eyes, and he can’t help but wonder if he somehow read your soul wrong when he glimpsed at it.  _ Only one way to find out _ . 

He concentrates, staring at your chest. He hopes that you don’t think he’s being weird, even though you have your chest binded today. He locks onto your soul and, yep, green fills his vision. Carefully, he extends a hand. He makes a beckoning motion and your soul floats happily out of your chest and into his hand. 

He and you just stare at it for a while, silent. 

“A-are,” your voice cracks and Sans hears you clear your throat. “Are all souls that… damaged?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah there's still gonna be another part to this dinner scenario. Reader has a mind of their own and, while that's great for my word count, it's not so great for getting where I want to go with plot points. Sigh. Oh Reader.   
> Anyone want to guess what their soul looks like? (Hint, it's easy if you check the [ Official Tumblr](http://skeletonshenanigansseries.tumblr.com/) for this fic.)


	4. Dinner (Part Three: Awkward, Awkwarder, Yet Awkwarder)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which your soul is looked at, Sans learns how shopping carts are made, and Papyrus low-key saves the day by being himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Official Tumblr](http://skeletonshenanigansseries.tumblr.com/) \-- [Personal Tumblr](http://anything--but--average.tumblr.com/)  
>  This chapter was Beta'd by the lovely [Ryzi](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryzi/pseuds/Ryzi).

Damaged.

Sans winces at the word, but he supposes there isn’t a better one to describe the condition of your soul. There are spiderwebs of cracks on the top left and right of your soul that nearly meet with another spiderweb of cracks that radiate from the center of your soul. There are a few cracks on the sides and bottom of your soul, but not nearly as heavily as the top. They stand out against the deep green glow of your soul, darker than the other kind souls that he’s seen.

“Only…” Sans trails off, cradling your soul in both of his hands now. “Only if you’ve been hurt a lot. Emotionally, physically, mentally, it all leaves marks on your being.” He clears his throat needlessly. “The colour means that you’re a very kind person though, even if you’ve had a tough time.” 

He mumbles your name and looks up at you. He watches you tear your eyes from your soul to meet his gaze. “Who hurt you?” He can’t help but ask.

“Hey,” you give a shaky laugh, “You have to be level four friendship to unlock my tragic backstory.”

“Fair enough. You wanna hold it?” He asks, nodding towards your soul. He sees some of the earlier determination return to your eyes and, sure enough, a tiny thread of red courses through your soul, winding from bottom to top. Interesting. The scientist in him wants to explore this further, but he doesn’t want you to think he’s only being your friend to look at your soul.

“Hell yeah, lemme hold my soul!” You’re nearly bouncing with excitement now. He’s reminded of Papyrus at Christmas. 

“Okay, cup your hands under mine, just like that. I’m gonna let it go, okay?” Sans silently counts to three before he takes his hands away from your soul. The air in the room feels cold on his hands. He hadn’t realized just how warm your soul was. 

“Oh my god,” you whisper under your breath. He watches you watch as your soul floats above your own hands, face illuminated in the green glow. Your eyes are wide and you have the biggest grin on your face that he’s ever seen. “This is so surreal. I am holding my own soul. And it’s green. Green’s a cool colour. And it’s all banged up and cracked but it’s still hanging in there, just like me.” 

He sees you tear up. He opens his mouth to ask if you’re okay but before he can get a word out, you meet his eyes again. “This is so cool. Thank you. I feel like I know myself better now. Just. Thanks Sans.” 

He nods, mouth still open. You still have that smile on your face and a single tear runs down your cheek. 

Sans isn’t sure how to respond. “Anytime?”

You laugh and your soul wiggles around in your hands. “Okay, I think it’s time to put this guy back.”

Sans nods and gently pushes your soul back into your chest. You shudder a little, but give him a thumbs up. 

“Do you get used to that feeling?” you ask.

“Eventually,” Sans shrugs.

Silence washes over you and Sans. He watches you rub a circle on your chest over where your soul sits. 

“Sooo,” you trail off.

“Sooo,” Sans replies, matching your tone. 

“So what colour is your soul?” You ask, curiosity sparkling in your eyes. 

“ ‘S blue,” he answers, voice tight. 

He watches your eyes move to his chest. You squint, like if you try hard enough you’ll be able to see his soul, even though you know you can’t.

“Can I see your soul too?” you ask, eyes wide with childlike wonder.

Sans freezes. He knows that his soul looks like yours, cracked and darkened from the hardships of life, but he doesn’t want you to see that. He doesn’t want you to know how damaged he is. His cracks are bigger, not fine webs but jagged gashes. His colour is dulled so is soul is nearly a slate grey. He doesn’t want to show that to you. He doesn’t want you to worry. He knows you will, with your green soul, how could you not? But, above all, he doesn’t want you to think that he’s damaged just because his soul is a little beat up. He’s not. At least, that’s what he tells himself. He knows it’s a lie, but it’s what gets him through the hard days. 

“No,” Sans finally says, turning bodily away from you. 

“It can’t be worse than mine. I mean, you saw it. It’s like, two shitty days from falling apart.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Sans cuts off your laugh and turns to you. He knows that his sockets have gone dark, and the slightly scared expression on your face confirms it. “Your soul is healing, not the other way around.”

“Is yours not then?” You shoot the words at him, and he nearly feels them as a physical blow because the answer to that question is a resounding no.

“I’m not ready for you to know me like that yet. What was that you said earlier? Level four friendship or something?” He waves a hand in a faux-careless manner. He know’s he’s putting walls up when he should be bringing them down, but he can’t help it. His mechanisms are hardwired into him.

“You got to see my soul. I just don’t get why I can’t see yours. Like I said, it can’t be as bad as mine,” you shrug.

“No,” Sans growls. He can feel his magic start to flare up in his left eye. He can see the slight blue glow wash over your intimidated face. “End of discussion.”

“Okay,” you whisper and turn away from him, drawing your knees up to your chest. 

He feels the magic recede. He wants to reach out and assure you that he’s not mad at you. He wants to explain himself, but he can’t find the words. They all get stuck in his throat until he feels like he’s choking down something physical. 

Silence, save for the television. Sans grabs the remote and flips through the channels. He settles on a show that shows how things are made. It’s a show that he enjoys, it fulfils his natural curiosity about the human world and its many products. That and the narrator tends to make puns about the products.

“I like this show.” You voice is so quiet, he can hardly hear it.

“Me too.” His reply is just as quiet. He’s not sure if you’re on the verge of a panic attack, or where your head's at. Looking at your soul to find out feels wrong, after he refused to show his to you. 

More silence between you and Sans. The narrator talks about how shopping carts are made. 

“SANS, HUMAN! I’M HOME!”

“Jesus fuck!” you squawk and flail, falling off of the couch. 

Sans snorts and looks down at you. Your face is flushed again and your breathing is fast. 

“Shut up Sans,” you mumble and roll your eyes. “You scared me, Papyrus!” You call out as you stand up, straightening out your shirt. 

“I AM VERY SORRY HUMAN!” Papyrus says as he walks into the living room. “SANS. YOU LEFT DISHES ON THE TABLE.”

“I was gonna get around to cleanin’ up,” Sans drawls. In all honesty, he had forgotten about the quiche and plates sitting on the table, what with the talk of souls. 

“I TOLD YOU TO WEAR YOUR PROPER DATING ATTIRE SANS.”

“Papyrus,” you say with a tense smile. “Sans and I aren’t dating. We’re just friends.”

“SO DID THE DATE GO BADLY?! I AM SO SORRY. SANS YOU SHOULD HAVE BORROWED MY MANUAL,” Papyrus stands there with his hands on his hips.

Sans watches you sigh and run a frustrated hand through your hair, pushing it back off of your forehead. “It wasn’t a date, Papyrus. I’m sorry. Sans and I are just friends. No dating. No romo.”

He snickers at that last bit. You would say something like that.

“OH! WELL THEN I AM GLAD YOUR FRIEND DATE WENT WELL. IT WENT WELL RIGHT?” Papyrus looks between the two of you, eyes narrowed. 

“It was fine, bro,” Sans finally speaks up. “We made quiche. Watched some TV. Friend stuff.”

Sans saw you cross your arms, but you nod along anyway. “Yep,” you confirm, “Friend stuff.”

“OH. WELL I AM GLAD THAT YOU HAD A GOOD TIME DOING FRIEND STUFF!”

“So am I Papyrus.” Sans watches as you go into the kitchen and look at the quiche dish. There’s still half left. “Hey Sans, can I take the leftovers home?” 

“Sure,” Sans says as he stands up. “Lemme grab you the plastic wrap while I clean up.”

“Thank you muchly,” you smile at him. Sans ignore the warm feeling that he feels in his chest. 

He grabs the plastic wrap and hands it to you before grabbing both of the plates with his magic and dumping them into the sink. 

“Stupid cling wrap. Stop sticking to yourself and stick to the damn pie dish.”

Sans looks over to see you struggling with the plastic wrap. It’s wrapped around your arm and you’re just staring at it, pouting.

“Well you seen  _ wrapped up _ over there,” Sans snickers from the entryway of the kitchen.

“It’s a bit of a  _ sticky _ situation, that’s for sure,” you fire back. 

The two of you laugh, louder than the puns really necessitate, and Sans knows that the earlier issue about seeing his soul is forgiven. He's glad that Papyrus came home when he did.  


Sans watches as you wrangle the plastic wrap from your arm and smooth is over the pie dish. 

“Done and done,” you nod proudly. 

“You heading out?” Sans asks.

“I probably should,” you say as you check your phone, grimacing when you notice how late it is. “I have work tomorrow morning.”

“Let me walk you home.”

“Oh my, such a gentleman. You sure this wasn’t a date?” You chuckle. 

“That’s me, trynna woo you with my knowledge of human anatomy and gentlemanly tendencies.” Sans waves for you to follow him to the door, and you do. 

He grabs your hoodie from the closet and helps you shrug it on while you hold onto the pie dish. 

The short walk to your apartment is quiet. Sans is lost in thought, and he figures that you’re stuck in your head too. 

“I ha-”

“I’m s-”

“You go first,” Sans says.

“I’m sorry for pushing about seeing your soul. You said it’s a personal thing and I should have respected that,” you say as you shift from foot to foot. 

“It’s all good. You were just curious, ‘s understandable.” Sans shrugs and waves your apology off. “You don’t need to apologize for bein’ curious.”

“What were you gonna say?” you ask.

“Nothin’ important,” Sans shrugs. “Now get in there before Alex has a fit or somethin’.”

“Okay, okay, I’m going. Jeez, bossy much?” you ask, sticking your tongue out at him.

“Yep, that’s me. Bossy,” Sans laughs. 

He waves to you as you open the door to the complex and watches as you close it behind you. 

He opens a tear to home and mumbles your name under his breath and shakes his head. 

“I had a great time tonight.”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY THIS SCENARIO IS DONE. I'm sorry for dragging it out (lol no im not) but I want to keep my chapters in a consistent range length-wise.   
> What do you guys think? Love it? Hate it? Vaguely-sorta-like it? Let me know!


	5. The One Where You Meet Frisk’s Mom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a large goat-monster and coworkers that have no chill. Alternate Title: Your Coworkers Need To Stay In Their Lane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Official Tumblr](http://skeletonshenanigansseries.tumblr.com/) \-- [Personal Tumblr ](http://anything--but--average.tumblr.com/)\-- [Writing Tumblr](http://arbitrary-tangents.tumblr.com/)  
>  Beta'd by the lovely and fantastic [Ryzi](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryzi/profile)

To say that you were having a bad day would be an understatement. 

You had woken up, gasping and in a cold sweat, from a nightmare that you couldn’t remember the details of. It had been four in the morning. You had tried to fall back asleep, but to no avail. So you lied awake until your alarm went off at ten. 

You had slumped into the kitchen to see Alex sitting at the small table, a disassembled coffee machine in front of them. Turns out that it had died overnight and was irreparable. Which meant that you’d have to drop some more money on a new one. 

“Oh yeah, hot water is on the fritz again,” Alex had sighed as they swept the pieces of the coffee machine into the trash. “RIP in shit, coffee machine.”

One lukewarm shower later, you were in your work uniform, preparing to go in for your (shoehorned) noon-to-five shift. You felt groggy and exhausted, and you were sure that the bags under your eyes were more prominent than ever. 

You held no hope that work would improve things. 

Five o’clock came and went, and the new girl was nowhere to be seen. She was supposed to come in at five — so you could, you know, leave at five — but nope. 

So that left you here, going on seven hours when you were promised a five hour shift. Pulling long shifts wasn’t an issue for you, you just preferred to be mentally prepared to deal with the general public for extended periods of time. 

“Any word from the new girl?” you ask Zeke, flopping your torso on the counter. 

“Nope, nothing.” Zeke pulled out his phone to check again, just to be sure. 

You let out a groan. “Can anyone else cover for her?” you ask.

“So far, everyone’s busy. That’s what happens on Saturdays,” Zeke sighs. 

You groan again and straighten up from your slumped over position. 

The hours trudge along sluggishly, with a sparse few customers to relieve the boredom. You had used nearly all of your data — and of course the store didn’t have WiFi — so you were stuck straightening and re-straightening the nicotine patches and lozenges. Hell, you were about were about two minutes away from asking Zeke to get you the vacuum so you could deep-clean the carpets behind the counter. 

Luckily a customer comes up to the register. You nearly stare in disbelief, but your years of working a register and literally not caring who showed up kicked in. But still, before you stood a very tall, very large, very soft looking goat monster. 

“Did you find everything alright?” You manage to ask as you start scanning their items. It was all school supplies; binders, notebooks, loose leaf paper packs, pencils, all of that. 

“Yes, thank you,” the goat monster smiles. 

As you continue scanning the seemingly endless pile of school supplies the goat monster speaks up again. 

“T-these aren’t all for me. They’re for my students and child,” they stutter slightly. “You may have seen my child in here with a couple of skeleton monsters before, they mentioned that this store had wonderful employees.”

“Frisk?” You ask as you double bag some binders. 

“Yes!” The goat monster smiles and you can’t help but return it with how genuine it is.

“They seem like a great kid, very polite too,” you say as you ring up the last few pencil cases. 

“Oh, don’t let them hear you say that,” The goat monster laughs and daintily extracts her credit card from her purse. “Swipe or chip?”

“Chip, please,” you nod down to the card reader. 

She fumbles with the machine a little, but succeeds in inserting her card correctly on the first try — a skill that most of your customers throughout the day had lacked. 

“Tell Frisk I said ‘hi’ okay?” you ask as she extracts her card from the now beeping machine. “Receipt’s in the bag.”

“I most certainly will!” She smiles before a blush somehow overtakes her face, tinting her white fur a light pink. “Oh! I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Toriel.”

You give your preferred name in return with a smile. “It was nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Toriel smiles. “Well, I must get back to the house.”

“Have a good night,” you smile, actually meaning the words. 

“You as well,” Toriel says as she puts the last of the bags in the cart. You watch as she makes her way out of the store. The phone on the counter rings, distracting you from staring at the doors that Toriel just exited through. 

You check the little display, noting that it says “Manager” on it, before you pick it up.

“Yeah?” you ask, looking over towards the office. You can just make out the shape of Zeke through the two-way mirror. 

“That was one of the biggest monsters I’ve ever seen,” Zeke hissed. 

“She looked really soft,” you mumble back. “Especially her ears like holy hell.”

“You seemed pretty chatty with her.”

“She’s Frisk’s mom,” you shrug. 

“Frisk?” he asks.

“The kid that was with the skeletons,” you say.

“No, I remember, but  _ Frisk _ ?” he scoffs. “What kind of a name is Frisk?”

“Dunno,  _ Ezekiel _ ,” you make sure to shoot a grin over in his direction. 

He hangs up on you.

You cackle, reveling in victory, when you see one of your coworkers walk through the door.

“Oh my god Baylee I’ve never been so happy to see you in my liiiiiiife,” you nearly cry as she clocks in.

She shakes her head, hair dyed a seafoam green this month, and laughs. “Zeke promised me pizza.”

“That bastard, he never gets me pizza,” you grumble.

“He used to get you plenty of sausage though,” Baylee winks at you.

“Ah, shut up,” you roll your eyes, a blush threatening to take over your face. The fact that the two of you used to hook up was only a secret from the store manager. 

“But aren’t you dating that skeleton now? The one who’s, like, always in here?” she asks as you scramble to clock out so you can go home.

“We’re not dating,” you sigh. “Besides, I’m not exactly the type to date.”

“I think you should give it a shot. He seems to like you.” Baylee looks at you with a smile. 

“I just… It’s complicated. I’m complicated and…” You throw your hands up and make a noise of exasperation. “Besides, I doubt that he likes me that much.”

“Mmhm, keep telling yourself that. He looks at you like I look at pizza,” she giggles. 

“I haven’t even known the guy a month, I doubt there’s any feelings there,” you roll your eyes. 

“You never know,” Baylee says with a grin.

“I’m leaving,” you groan as you walk out from behind the counter. 

“Just, give him a fair shot, okay?” Baylee looks at you with her big, brown eyes. 

“There’s no shot to give,” you sigh, shaking your head, as you speed walk out of the store.

You’re glad that you took the next few days off for your own sake. Having all your coworkers so involved in your dating/sex life was really starting to get under your skin.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LIVE!!!!! Sorry for never updating, life and writer's block and yeah. I actually lost all motivation for this fic for a while there, mostly because this started off as a way for me to bitch about my job because it sucked. I have since changed jobs to something that doesn't suck (as much, work is still work, but I digress) so that driving force just... isn't there anymore. But I do have some ideas and things that I would still like to have happen, so there's still life in this fic!  
> Just... don't expect me to suddenly come up with an update schedule and stick to it.


	6. Lazy Afternoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which shitty movies are watched, your love life is discussed (ugh), and plans are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Official Tumblr](http://skeletonshenanigansseries.tumblr.com/) \-- [Personal Tumblr](http://anything--but--average.tumblr.com/) \-- [Writing Tumblr](http://arbitrary-tangents.tumblr.com/)  
>  BAE-ta'd by the lovely and fantastic [Ryzi](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryzi)

Finally, you had a stretch of four days that you didn’t have to work. Sure, you had put in for them, but you weren’t sure that you were going to get the time off as the fall semester just started up at most colleges and most of your coworkers attended either the community college or one of the universities within driving distance. 

The first day you spent catching up with Alex. You had realized that you had been so focused on your new friends that you had kinda been neglecting the one that you already had. The two of you curled up on your beat-up couch and watched bad movies that you had seen countless times and caught up with each other. 

“I’m just saying, maybe Baylee has a point,” Alex shrugs, looking at you in concern. “It’s been how long since you broke up with Fucktrumpet?”

“Not long enough,” you sigh, feeling your chest ache. Not even the silly name that you and Alex had taken to calling your ex in lieu of his actual name made you smile. 

“You can’t just wallow in the hurt. You have to give someone else a shot eventually.” Alex looks over at you, concern in their eyes. 

“Fucking watch me wallow, bitch,” you grumble and bring your knees up to your chest. 

“Well you could always just do the no strings thing,” Alex shrugs.

“Cause that worked out so well with the last guy I tried that with,” you roll your eyes, alluding to the semi-trainwreck that you and Zeke ended up being.

“Not your fault that he decided to get serious with his girlfriend. Besides if I’m remembering correctly she’s the one who got jealous when she said she wouldn’t,” Alex says.

“Well, not everyone is as comfortable with open relationships as they think they are,” you grumble, still slightly bitter. You hadn’t caught feelings for Zeke in the least — seeing as you literally couldn’t — but the intimacy and companionship had been nice. And, frankly, it was some of the best sex you’d had. The resulting awkwardness it left behind at work was palpable to say the least.

“Look. You need to get over Fucktrumpet. You’re still clutching to this — this delusion that he’ll change and come back, aren’t you?”

You stay silent, not giving Alex the satisfaction of having their correct assumption confirmed by you. So what if you were still wishing that your ex would come back? That was normal. 

“He was shitty. He was the shittiest shit that the world ever shat,” Alex insists. 

You can’t help but giggle a little bit at the sentence, but your chest still feels heavy.

“I’m just saying, maybe if you let someone else in you’ll feel better,” Alex says. 

“Yeah but, I don’t know,” you sigh. “Sans is nice and all, but I just… I’m not ready.”

“You may never feel like you’re ready. You have to take the chance — for your own sake.”

“I’m pretty sure he just sees me as a friend,” you mumble, thinking back to the dinner when he had shown you your soul. When Papyrus had called and made things awkward with his talk of it being a date. The pregnant pause before Sans had assured you that he didn’t want it to be a date. But what if he really had and that’s why he took so long to answer. Oh god, what if he did have feelings for you?

“Hello? Anyone home?” Alex asks, waving their hand in front of your face.

“What if he likes me? Like, in a romantic way? I can’t reciprocate that, it’s unfair to him. Oh god, what if I bring it up and I fuck everything up?” You look at Alex, eyes wide. “Do you think he likes me?”

“I have no clue, I haven’t even met the guy. Which you better remedy because I need to let him know exactly how much pain he’ll be in if he does anything to you,” Alex says as they crack their knuckles. 

“Okay, dad, chill,” you roll your eyes at Alex’s antics. “But seriously, I don’t wanna fuck our friendship up.”

“It’s up to you whether you act or not. I’m just giving you options, ya doofus.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you grumble and roll your eyes again. “I think I’m gonna head to bed.”

“Same,” Alex yawned. 

You bid Alex goodnight and shuffle into your room. You tug your clothes off and change into some fluffy pants and a tank-top. You faceplant onto your bed before wiggling around to crawl under the covers. You plug your phone in and curl up on your side with a sigh. As tired as you were, you knew that it would be hours before you fell asleep. 

Your phone vibrates and you look at it in slight confusion as there’s a text message from an unknown number.

**From UNKNOWN:** HEY NERD

You start to type out a “who is this?” text when another from the same unknown number comes in.

**From UNKNOWN:** Oh shit it’s Undyne btw

You let out a soft “oh” and delete your draft. You save Undyne’s number before replying.

**To Big Bara Fish Lady:** Hey Undyne! How’d you get my number?

Undyne’s response comes in immediately.

**From Big Bara Fish Lady:** Snas.

**From Big Bara Fish Lady:** Fuck, I meant Sans.

“Pffffft, Snas,” you giggle.

**To Big Bara Fish Lady:** Lol Snas. That’s totally his new contact name now.

**From Big Bara Fish Lady:** GOOD. But anyways NERD you wanna hit up the gym with me?

You hesitate. Undyne seems nice enough, but she strikes you as a little…

**From Big Bara Fish Lady:** LET’S WORK ON THOSE TWIGS YOU CALL ARMS

No, she strikes you as a LOT intense. 

But still, you could stand to work out. Maybe having someone so enthusiastic would help you get motivated. 

**To Big Bara Fish Lady:** Sure! 

The two of you hammer out a time and Undyne gives you the address of the gym that she works at. You look it up and frown slightly. It’s in the next town over from where you live, meaning that it would be way too far of a walk. 

**To Big Bara Fish Lady:** I kinda don’t have a car. Would you be cool with picking me up?

**From Big Bara Fish Lady:** Wait, do you not have a car?

**To Big Bara Fish Lady:** Nooooo. I’m poor AF 

**From Big Bara Fish Lady:** Fine nerd, I GUESS I can pick you up. 

**To Big Bara Fish Lady:** Thank youuuuu

After some more smoothing over the details, you and Undyne successfully work out everything. She reminds you to eat something with some protein before she stops responding. You guess that she fell asleep.

You stare at the ceiling until you fall asleep, phone still in your hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is this? An update within the same month as the last one? Whaaaat? What is this alternate timeline we've stumbled upon?   
> Seriously though, I'm slowly gaining inspiration for this fic again and already have some stuff written for future chapters that you guys are bound to like ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°).   
> Also, this fic is totally open to suggestions! Tell me what you want and I'll do my best to include it! Want to see more of a certain character? Have a scenario you think would be hilarious? Let me know!


	7. Not-So-Lazy Afternoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you hit up the gym with Undyne, talk about feelings and junk, and make a great decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Skeleton Shenanigans Series Tumblr](http://skeletonshenanigansseries.tumblr.com/) \-- [My Personal Tumblr](http://anything--but--average.tumblr.com) \-- [Tumblr For Other Fanfics](http://arbitrary-tangents.tumblr.com/)  
>  God, I run too many blogs...  
> BAE-ta'd by [Ryzi](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryzi). I do not deserve them.

“Come on! Is that all you can do?”

“Yes,” you grunt as you flop to the floor. You’d only been at the gym for ten minutes and you were ready to curl up and die. Undyne threw you into an intense cardio-based workout peppered with arm exercises. You had been doing push-ups — emphasis on  _ had  _ — and before that was cycling and jumping jacks. Not to mention the hellish warm-up.

“Pssssh, I know you got more in ya. Come on. Just two more and you’re done the set,” Undye was squatting down next to you.

“I really don’t Undyne, I really, really don’t have two more in me.” Your legs hurt, your lungs hurt, and your arms hurt. To say that you regretted accepting Undyne’s invitation would be an understatement. 

“It’s just two more, nerd. Your twig-arms will thank me later,” Undyne nudged one of said arms with a sneaker-clad toe. 

Mumbling curses under your breath, you got back into a plank position before you managed to churn out two sloppy, shaky push-ups. 

“Awesome! See! I knew you had it in you. Now, thirty second break before we get back into it — you deserve it,” Undyne helped you to your feet, nearly catapulting you into the ceiling with the amount of strength she used. 

You mumbled some more as you massaged your sore arms. All too soon, Undyne was dragging you over to some treadmills. She set the speed and, thankfully, you were only at a light jog. Not that it would last that long. She was bound to turn the speed up. 

Undyne hops on the treadmill next to you and sets her own speed to a point where she’s nearly sprinting. You stare at her as she runs, slightly envious over the fact that she’s not even out of breath even though she’s been working out alongside you. 

“So, you and Sans,” she says suddenly. 

You let out a frustrated groan. Why did everyone care so much about you and Sans? 

“What about us?” you ask, only sounding a little (okay, a lot) out of breath.

“When are you two NERDS gonna start dating?”

You nearly fall off of your treadmill.

As you regain your balance, you feel words rise like bile in your throat. 

“Why is everyone so hell-bent on us being together? Newsflash, world, two people can be close without needing to date! Jesus, he probably doesn’t even like me like that. And I have no capacity for romantic feelings because my brain is fucked. So even if we wanted it to be a thing, it wouldn’t even pan out.” You had started out your rant nearly yelling, but you got quieter as it went on, ending with a mumble. 

You’re already looking at Undyne, so you see when it happens. 

She stops dead and you catch an expression of half horror half something else before she flies backwards. Luckily she only lands a few feet away, but her momentum has her skidding into the wall. She connects with a thud and you immediately hop off of your treadmill, turning it off, before you turn off Undyne’s and rush over to her.  

“Are you-”

“Dude, I am so sorry. I thought that -”

You can’t help but scoff and roll your eyes. “We can’t all be built with the capacity for romance, Undyne.” There’s no bite behind the words. If anything, you just sound tired. “Now, seriously, are you okay?” 

People were starting to gather and whisper amongst themselves. 

“Puh-LEASE,” Undyne snorts, “It’ll take more than that to hurt me. Come on, back to the treadmills.”

“Undyne, seriously, you could have a concussion or-”

She holds up a hand to stop your worried tangent before it can begin.

“I’ve taken harder hits. I think I’ll live. Besides, I’ve had concussions before. I know what they feel like.”

This doesn’t exactly reassure you, but it does keep you from asking her if she’s okay again. So it’s back to the treadmill for you. Undyne turns the both of them back on before the both of you step on your respective machines. You set the speed a little lower than Undyne had it out of self-preservation. 

“So, about what you said earlier,” Undyne says. You look over to see that she’s staring straight at you. 

“What about it?” you ask, feeling slightly uncomfortable under her gaze. 

“Your brain isn’t fucked,” she says. “You’re just wired a little bit differently. And so what if you are? Doesn’t mean that you don’t care about people. Just means that you show it differently.” She finished off her — honestly touching — spiel with a shrug. 

You’re at a loss for words. You honestly hadn’t expected that out of Undyne. She didn’t come off as someone who was very touchy-feely. But, then again, people were suprising that way. 

Undyne looks over at you and scoffs. “You’re catching flies, nerd.”

You snap your jaw shut and turn to face the wall in front of you, cheeks warm. 

Undyne laughs at your steadily reddening complexion and you snap at her to shut up.

“But, seriously, I think you should give it a shot. If you want. Sans is a good guy.”

“I’ll… I’ll think about it,” you sigh.

After another few minutes of using the treadmills, Undyne has you do some cool down stretches. 

“Ugh,” you wince slightly, “I’m gonna feel this in the morning.”

“Good,” Undyne said. “If you can, take a soak when you get home. It’ll help with the muscle aches that’ll pop up.”

“Noted,” you say as you stand up. “That was… something.”

“It was fun and you know it.” Undyne reaches over and ruffles your hair, probably a bit more roughly than she intended to.

“Seeing you fly off a treadmill was pretty entertaining,” you hum and shoot her a smirk.

“You tell anyone that happened and you’re dead.”

“Too bad I didn’t get any video,” you muse. “That’s the type of shit that goes viral. You could’ve been a YouTube star, Undyne.”

“Pah, I don’t need internet fame,” she scoffs and rolls her eye.

“Whatever you say.”

The two of you continue to banter back and forth as you pick up your bags from the locker room and then make your way to the parking lot where Undyne’s truck is parked. 

You had discovered this morning that Undyne drove with a lead foot. You weren’t looking forward to riding with her, but she didn’t technically do anything unsafe — just fast. Very fast. Luckily, the drive from the gym where she worked to your apartment was only about forty-five minutes — a normal amount of time to get anywhere out where you live. 

The forty-five minutes were passed with you and Undyne singing along to anime openings at the top of your lungs. Well, you sang the ones you knew, Undyne sung them all. You made good use of the “oh shit” bar when Undyne took turns a little too fast. All things considered, though, riding with Undyne was a blast. 

“We need to hang out more, nerd,” Undyne says as she pulls up to your apartment.

“Maybe less exercising though, I am but a weakling,” you laugh.  

“More exercising would fix that,” Undyne says with a wide grin.

“Maybe we can have an anime night? I’m woefully behind on what’s good right now,” you say, willfully ignoring her comment. 

“HELL YEAH ANIME NIGHT. Just lemme know when you’re free and we’ll have a SLEEPOVER FOR THE AGES.” Undyne jumps up and down in her seat, causing the truck to shake.

“I’ll let you know,” you laugh as you open the door and exit the shaking vehicle. “My work schedule is inconsistent as hell, but I’m sure we can work something out.”

“HELL. YEAH!” Undyne yells through the window before rolling it down. “But seriously, don’t forget to soak with like maybe some epsom salts. Helps the muscles relax some.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you roll your eyes, already planning on taking a bubble bath. God, you hadn’t had a good bubble bath is ages.

You wave to Undye as she pulls away and then head inside. You make our way up to your floor and open the door. “I’m back,” you announce, only to be met with silence. Alex usually worked days, but you liked to announce your presence anyway. 

You walked into the kitchen and, on a whim, grabbed a bottle of spiced rum from the liquor cabinet. Hell yeah, bubble bath and alcohol. You definitely deserved it after being put through Undyne’s workout. 

You grab some comfy clothes from your room before heading into the bathroom. You start the water and take a couple swigs of your rum as the water starts to heat up. 

Soon enough you’re nearly engulfed in bubbles, nearly empty bottle of rum in one hand and phone in the other. Speaking of your phone…

Your tipsy brain starts to churn with an idea, echoing Undyne’s words back at you.

_ You should give it a shot. _

“He doesn’t like me like that,” you mumble petulantly into the bubbles. 

_ You should give it a shot. _

“I’m too broken,” you inform your shampoo bottle.

_ You should give it a shot. _

“And gross, definitely gross…” you sigh to your phone.

Just then, a text comes in.

**From Spooky Scary Skeleton:** how was your gym day?

_ You should give it a shot!  _

“Aw, fuck it,” you say as you down the last of the rum and open up the camera app on your phone. “Sure, I’ll give it a shot — best way I know how.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huehuehue that ending tho.  
> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  
> Also, this chapter is exactly 1600 words. #Satifying

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave any feedback or constructive criticism. If there's an error that Ryzi or I didn't catch, please tell me so I can fix it!  
> See you next time!


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